The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1887-12-20
A Sanguinary Chapter From the
History of the Goat
House.
Ancient Butter and q Red Headed
Dining-ROOm Girl the
Causes.
A Domestic Tragedy Happily
Ended by the Arbitration
Plan.

nOu ts
"You will"
YOU'RE a liar, sir.
"Pm liar, am II
"You are, sir"
"Then you'll nave to prove it."
81 can do it, you bet"
The speakers were the mild-tem-
pered proprietor of the Goat house
and his newest boarder, and the quar-
rel arose over a harmless little joke
by the boarder about the butter.
The boarder, young mechanic who
manipulates a shovel with the con-
struction gang, had asked the red
haired dining-room girl for the"left-
handed butter"
"Why do you call it left-handed,
sir ?" asked the girl.
"Because | have to hold my nose
with my right hand while l eat It,
replied the young man. sit ought
10 be taken to barber shop and get
it's red-headed beard shaved of.
"Do you mean me, you dirt sling
in, bow-legged devil ?" demanded the
girl, edging toward the carving knife.
"Don't care whether l mean you or
not but this buffers got red hair
| in it. an I guess you're the
only red-headed old girl about the
place. If the shoe fits 70 Lii 'e'
five foot, you're welcome to wear
it."
cold girl is it? Number five
did you say? You bigmouthed loafer!
I'm make you think odd girl and
number five" screamed the now
thoroughly aroused biscuit jerker, and
she let a soup-plate fly at his head
with the force of cannon ball.
| AS is usual when a female throws
anything, the plate went wide OF its
mark and brought up against the bald
pate of the landlord, who had entered
, the room at the sound OF high
words.
y He dropped as though he had been
5 shot with the butt Of an army muske'
loaded ten years ago.
/ Not needing her employers mis-
; hap, the girl continued firing plates
4 and dishes, and salt cellars at the rail
road man. He lodged about some
> but did not move far from the spot OF
: which he stood, and thereby, perhaps
saved himself the fate that had me
the landlord. :.
Not until the table in her immedi
y ate reach had been cleared OF any
y thing she could throw did the irat
: girl desist.
s Broken pieces of crockery la
about the PROSTATE form 9
IL the old man, and smaI
stream of blood trickled from woun
# in his forehead.
p The noise of the flying plates arouse
& the cook from her tight slumber nea
n the stove, and she joined the trio
3 3 the dining room. =,
II "Goodness gracious |! What's til
~ matter 2" she demanded, popping hs
ne head In.
II. "Nothin', only this red-headed sh
% cat has killed the old man" explaine
" the bearder, bending over the pro
trate form, and taking from the oil
mans vest pocket fve-cent cigar.
"I'll make you think there's n
re thing the matter" Kissed the gin
"you dirt eatin', lynn, low-lived skur
lie you p
DOOR man !" whined the cook, raislI
lis his head and slipping the spittoen u
6. > der it.
The old man opened his eyes.
80, whats the matter? Did t
me- house fall down or did one of Mer
fees mules git in here an kick me
we death ?"
Mt. "This daisy of yours throwed
ED plate and struck you in the head" G
planned the boarder.
is 81 intended it for that addle-pat
S iss- numbskull," said the girl, her ey
sen flashing fire and her hand clutch
It'll the pepper cruet.
ove "What's it all about ?" demand
ND the proprietor, sitting up, and wipi
, II the blood from his face on the tai
m cloth.
There was a great gathering
tongues, the girl, the cook and
shovel artist all telling their story
md once. -
su. "Who's goin' to pay me for all th
p Sa broken plates, and cups and saucers
ind asked the proprietor. glancing fr
re- one to the other.
pom al won't" said the girl.
ub- 81 didn't have nothin' to do "
t a the muss," chimed in the pot-wr'
Ter.
"Bet your sweet life I don't pay
no broken Dishes" said the board